Salt box
by Takara Hatake
Summary: Remember the night Evy got drunk and nearly kissed Rick ? Well, that got him just a little bit frustrated... He decides that vengeance is sweet. The game is hardly over between those two. Denial, sarcasm and bickering all along !


« Wow »

Rick exhaled slowly and threw a half-exasperated, half-amused glance to the young woman who had just collapsed and settled snugly in his lap. Really, she had picked her moment to faint from too much alcohol. He wished she had held on just a minute more. But then, he knew he would have remembered it as a bittersweet moment, something which had not meant anything more than a drunken kiss and that she would have forgotten by morning.

He slapped himself mentally. Really, it had never been a problem before to snatch whatever came his way, no matter if the girl was drunk or not. After all, just days ago, he had kissed that same librarian by surprise. He wondered when exactly he had turned so soft.

Cursing himself, he lifted Evelyn's sleeping form , carried her to her tent and dropped her unceremoniously on her makeshift bed. That girl got under his skin, and he certainly didn't like that. Well, he would have to make the next days a living hell for her. Just to compensate.

***

On the next day, Evelyn awoke to a pounding headache and a remarkable hangover. Or perhaps she considered it remarkable because she was discovering what a hangover felt like. She had absolutely no idea how she had come to sleep fully dressed and rather disheveled on her bed without even slipping under the blankets. Actually, she couldn't remember anything at all from the previous evening. She thought she had been talking to that O'Connell. About… about… librarians ? and her family ? What on earth had possessed her to talk about her family with _that man_ of all people ? For heaven's sake, he probably didn't know what a family was like, and… and he was the kind of men who has a shotgun instead of a brain. He certainly wouldn't be interested in what a librarian's job was like. Could he even read ?

She knew she was being ungrateful and unjust. This guy had turned out to have some qualities, after all. His ability to fight, for one. His capacity to protect her and her infamous brother. Jonathan could be really useless sometimes, as much as she loved him. Well, back to O'Connell. What did he have for himself ? Well… he wasn't afraid of danger, after all, he kept going into tombs and the like. Even though she wasn't sure whether it was because he wanted to rob them, or just for totally unselfish purposes.

Well, he had this totally sexy side to him too…

_She had not just thought that._ She groaned inwardly. Really, what kind of influence did that bloody American have over her ? It had to be because, well, compared to how he had looked when he was in prison, of course, now, he would look dashing in _any_ kind of situation. She suspected he had gotten himself in that scrap just for that reason. So that he would never look half as bad ever again.

Still cursing mentally, she reached for a waterskin and drank, then she splashed her face, combed her hair back so that she would look just a little bit civilized, and came out of the tent.

The heat of the Egyptian sun didn't help relieve her headache. Besides, the men who accompanied the Americans' expedition were shouting, singing far too loudly for such an early hour, in her opinion. She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes and stalked to her brother's tent.

"Jonathan ? Jonathan ! Are you awake ?

-He will have to be after this shouting of yours, sweetheart, said a deep voice behind her. She did a double take and twirled around. O'Connell. Of course. She should have known. Curses were idiotic inventions, but it looked like she was never going to get rid of that particular curse.

He had a sarcastic smirk on his face. That didn't bide well. What on earth was he up to, now ?

"O'Connell" she said, as a way of greeting. As neutral a greeting as she could manage. Not… slapping him, or kissing him, like this bloody smile made her feel like doing. She congratulated herself. She was definitely acting perfectly properly.

That feeling of triumph didn't last long, however. At this point, that damn yankee started _talking._ Bad idea, bad idea.

"Well, Miss Carnahan, you look fresher than I would'a thought, seeing the _state_ you put yourself in last night…"

His tone suggesting something far, far worse than just talking about her family or her job. Evy started to feel just a little bit worried.

"What are you talking about, Mr O'Connell ?" Her tone would have frozen a nicely roaring fire.

"Oh, no need to be so frosty, y'know… You were far more amiable last night. We parted _good friends_, ya know."

Now she wasn't just a bit worried. She had started feeling slightly panicky.

"I have no idea what you are alluding to", she said stiffly. He cocked an eyebrow, and a grin etched over his face.

"Really ? Not a tiny-teeny bit of idea ? Well, bad for you, _love_. That's your loss. I'll remember it, though !"

He turned away and started walking towards his own tent in his long elastic stride; like he didn't have a worry in the world.

_Oh no, _she thought_, you are certainly not getting away with that !!_

She was about to run after him to make him spit out the whole story, when a voice chirped at her feet :

"Well, well, Evy, what did you do ? I mean, looks pretty serious, from O'Connell's smug face !"

Trust Jonathan to help when she needed to be comforted, she thought, rolling her eyes, while she sprang after the insufferable American. He was already busy bickering with one of his compatriots, Henderson she thought his name was. Or rather, he was pretending he wasn't seeing her or hearing her furious pace upon the sand. She knew he was actually paying her attention, because she knew, in her innermost heart, that he was actually doing that just to annoy her. She knew they were playing a game. Only, he had all the trump cards, and she had none, because she was totally inexperienced in this. She had no idea what to say when he teased her, no idea what to do when he came just a little too near her, except backing away. She had her wits and her saucy remarks to thank for remaining sane until that day, because if she hadn't been able to keep a straight face and her façade up, then she felt, somehow, that the way that guy behaved would have made her go mad. And then, she would have done something that she would regret. There was no way she was going to… to let herself behave like all these girls he had doubtlessly known and jilted without a second thought.

Well, perhaps, just perhaps, she wanted him. But she was definitely going to make him have a second thought about her.

That's why, by the time she had reached him, she had her plan drawn. She tried to convince herself that she had done nothing thoroughly reprehensible last night, and walked right past him to the young man he was talking to.

"John, good morning !" (after all, he was an American, and she figured John was as plausible a name as any for him to have)

It looked like a lucky guess. The young American grinned and took gallantly the hand Evy extended to him to bring it to his lips.

"Miss Carnahan, seeing you is the best way to start the day ! What can I do for you ?

-Well, I just wanted to thank you for lending me those tools yesterday. It was so kind of you. I think I can give them back now, would you escort me to my tent so that I can fetch them ?"

Evy was no fool. She was pretty, this young man liked pretty girls, and she knew it. She also knew very well that a certain other Yankee was looking at her with an indignant expression. _He_ had been the one to, well, to steal these tools for her to use ! Henderson had certainly not been the helpful gentleman she made him look like ! And… and she was inviting him to her _tent_, for goodness sake ! Worse still, she wasn't paying him the tiniest bit of attention.

Sure, he knew it was all part of their game. He knew this was payback for his behavior. He knew she was trying to annoy him.

The problem was, it was actually working.

He stood looking at the pair while they walked away, chattering animatedly about some nineteenth dynasty pharaoh he had never heard of, then stomped off in the opposite direction, hoping somebody would be annoying enough for him to have an excuse to take his gun and shoot. In the sand, naturally. Still, it would make him feel less frustrated. Barely.

Since when did a little girl have the right to make him feel, well, jealous wasn't the world. There was no way _he_ could _ever_ be jealous of some kind of librarian, even if it was an incredibly pretty, spirited and challenging librarian. Ha. Like it would ever happen.

…Right ?

***

For all her devious little scheming, Evy had been in for a pleasant surprise with that Henderson guy. He had actually been charming and funny. _Ha. Not every Yankees have to be like O'Connell. In your teeth, playboy._

Her plan had gone along charmingly. Rick had gone off looking pissed and now, he didn't come near her at all. Leaving her in peace. Great. That was what she had looked forward all this time, instead of their constant meaningless little games. She was quite happy without him around. It was all exactly how it ought to be.

…Right ?

***

Jonathan's stare went from his little sister who was, admittedly, sweet and all, but a real minx when she decided so, to their supposed guide. O'Connell could be a pain sometimes, but he was a good man to have on one's side. Really, he didn't know which one he should decide to offend, right here and there. On the whole, he knew that Evy, being his sister, would forgive him a lot of things. But not, he felt, when Rick was concerned. As for Rick, well, his rifle looked awfully menacing, just at hand on the sand.

Why, oh why, he thought with anguish, did they have to ask for the salt box exactly at the same second ?

He sat with his hand hovering between his two companions, without deciding on a course of action. Evy was already beginning to look murderous, and Rick's eyebrow were tilted in a way that was well, as menacing as eyebrows could be. That is, quite a lot.

Suddenly, he decided that he didn't want to die young, or to die at all, for that matter, and decided to extricate himself from this impossible situation. He got up, tossed the salt box in the exact middle between Rick and Evy, and said :

"Well, I think I'll let you two settle your problems, hm ? I'm going for a walk."

Really, he could give lessons to British diplomats, now, he thought with satisfaction as he strode towards the Americans' group. He was going to ask for sanctuary there, and, more importantly, for a good dinner. After all, those two idiots hadn't left him time to finish his meal.

Rick and Evy were frozen in place, their eyes fixed on the little salt box lying in the sand. This epitomized the whole of their problem. There was no way they were going to let the other win.

At the exact same time, they lunged for the little box.

This badly-timed act (or very-well timed, it depends on how you consider it, after all. At that precise moment, Evy thought it was badly-timed. Later, she changed her mind. Rick thought the timing was perfect all along, and he never changed his mind.) ended in the two of them battling fiercely for the little box, rolling in the sand and wriggling as if their lives depended on it.

Eventually, the box opened and its content spilled in the sand, from which, needless to say, it could never be retrieved. Evy and Rick stopped fighting at once, looked to the box, then to each other with a blank stare. Silence ensued, neither of them said a word, as if they were hypnotized by that very normal little black box. Then, Evy started laughing her head off. The corner of Rick's mouth began twitching, but he pretended to be offended :

"Well, you see how it turns out when women try to battle men ? Everybody loses in the end !

-Or let's say that when men forget to be chivalrous, it ends up as a catastrophy, Evy answered, still giggling uncontrollably.

Rick pulled himself up from the ground and helped Evy up.

"Well, That's a chivalrous act, isn't it ? Rick boasted.

-No, that does not qualify, this was mere courtesy, Evy corrected, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

-Nope. If I had helped your brother up, well, that would have been courtesy. With you, it's chivalry. I need all of my bravery to come near you after all, I usually end up with scratch marks on my face !"

Evy lifted an eyebrow.

"Well, I can't help it. You are so clumsy that you keep falling on my claws… er, nails.

-Yeah, sure, everybody will believe that…

-Anyways, you apparently are not that frightened of my claws, since you keep coming back !"

He couldn't deny that. Especially not when she was looking at him with those eyes. Still, he was not going to fall for that obvious trap. He was content with lifting his shoulders and burying his hands in his pockets.

"Well, sweetheart, if you wanna be rid of me, just go and travel with your other American friends, since you think they are the perfect gentlemen !" His tone was, to say the least, sarcastic.

She shrugged graciously and turned on her heels.

"Or perhaps I'm just tired of gentlemen…"

Rick watched her leave, openmouthed. He really hadn't been expecting that one. He looked on as Evelyn gathered her things on the sand before her tent, then lifted the fabric of the entrance and slipped in.

Then a grin etched on his face. After all, he was definitely tired of the one-night stand, silly women he had met all along the years. And he believed that, even though she was a handful, this particular librarian was exactly the equal he had been needing. He would never admit that he had been jealous of that Henderson guy, mind you. But perhaps he would become just a little protective of that girl in the future.

Just a little bit protective wasn't enough, though. In the next few days, he had to become completely and madly overprotective. After all, there were mummies involved.

Good thing, too, because without all these troubles and all this hullaballoo, he wasn't sure whether he would have had the guts to admit to himself that he loved that girl.

***

Years later, a young Alex O'Connell was desperately trying to fathom why on earth his parents were laughing their heads off, as they never failed to do every night at dinner. After all, Dad had only asked Mum to give him the salt…


End file.
